


Out on the Tiles

by Vichan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Universe, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Lights, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Eggnog, Jealous Dean, M/M, SPN Holiday Mixtape, Sam Knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12886230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vichan/pseuds/Vichan
Summary: Cas is back. Jack is a hippo. Sam is sinking ships. And Dean is certainly notjealous.





	Out on the Tiles

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Holiday Mixtape 2017. Thank you to twenty-one-pilots-in-a-box for the beta!

The chords of Zeppelin aren’t filling his ears to let him know there’s a phone call. There’s not a chime signifying that a text came through. The screen stays dark, mocking him with its lifelessness.

No matter how hard Dean stares at his phone, he can’t will it to make it do what he wants. 

“You kinda look like you’re trying to set your phone on fire with your mind,” Dean hears instead, and he turns his glare towards his brother as Sam walks into the library. “I think that’s more Jack’s thing, right?” Sam continues. 

_Jack_. Dean tries not to let his face show a reaction to the name. He might no longer be sleeping with one eye open because he thinks the kid is going to murder them in their sleep, but considering Jack is the exact reason why Cas isn’t -

“So… you heard from them lately?” Sam asks. “Jack and Cas?”

Dean knows he can’t hide his expression at that, so he drops his hard gaze back to his phone. “Not since Cas called this morning.” 

Sam coughs as he takes a seat across from Dean, and Dean’s pretty sure that cough was covering up a laugh. “It’s… it’s noon,” Sam says. “It’s barely not morning anymore.”

 _Smartass_. “Shut up,” Dean says. “It was… well, I mean… it was _early_ this morning.”

“You didn’t wake up ‘til ten.”

Okay, so Dean’s kind of bad at keeping track of time when he’s not actually doing anything productive. Turns out that doing nothing but sipping coffee and staring at a reactionless phone makes two hours seem like a full day. 

And really, it’s totally normal that time crawls by when worried, right? Dean might have been going easier on Jack in the recent weeks, but the kid’s not firmly in the ‘good guy’ column yet, and Cas - well, Cas was freaking _dead_ up until a few weeks ago. And now with the two of them regularly going off together alone… 

Dean is totally within his rights to be worried, and Sam knows that. _Cas_ knows that.

“Dean? Did you hear me?” 

He realizes he’s been glaring at his phone again, and no, he didn’t hear what Sam said. “What?”

“Do you know what they’re working on?”

Dean shrugs. “Teleporting to China? Blowing things up with his laser eyes? Watching _Scooby Doo_? I don’t fucking know.” And Dean knows that’s odd. Cas has been really good about letting them know what he and Jack were up to, but he’d been rather cagey during the last couple of phone calls, and Dean doesn’t like it.

Sam’s mouth draws itself into a tight line, and it’s one of the few times when Dean has absolutely no idea what Sam’s expression means. 

“You… uh…” Sam clears his throat and suddenly starts shuffling through the file folders in front of him. Dean can tell the action is aimless. 

“Whatever you were about to say, just say it,” Dean says tiredly. He’s not in the mood for Sam doing that thing he does where he clearly wants to say something but instead just stares at Dean looking pathetic for hours. 

“It’s just…” Sam clears his throat again, louder this time. “You sound a little… I dunno, bitter?”

“I’m not bitter.”

“Okay.” Sam sets his gaze firmly on Dean again, and the expression on his face now is one Dean definitely _does_ recognize - Sam’s about to say something that he knows is going to piss Dean off. “You sound _jealous_.”

And yep, that pisses Dean off. “I am not freaking _jealous_.” He abruptly shoves his chair back from the table and leaves. He doesn’t want to see his brother’s smug, stupid, knowing face right now. 

_Jealous_. 

It’s not until he shuts the door to his bedroom that he realizes just how storming out must have appeared to Sam, and Dean sighs as he leans back against the door. 

Cas was dead for months, and since he got back it seems like all he wants to do is spend time with Jack. 

And Dean is completely aware of how that sounds, but Dean’s only convinced Cas to stick around for one movie night, and they haven’t hit up a single bar for burgers and beer. Actual private conversations are far and few between, with Jack or Sam - or both - always around when Dean and Cas actually get to talk. 

Instead, Cas takes Jack into one of the other rooms in the bunker to work on controlling Jack’s powers. And in the last couple of days it’s been worse - they’ve been leaving the property entirely, meaning Dean can’t even sneak in to keep an eye on them. 

Cas is alive again, which Dean is still ecstatic about, but he’s just never _here_ and -

Yeah. Maybe Dean is jealous. 

Just a touch.

***

A day later, Dean catches Jack tip-toeing down the hallway with something tucked under his arm.

And he’s _literally_ tip-toeing. 

He’s even got the high knees and bobbing head going, all of which looks oddly familiar, and Dean suddenly realizes that Jack has probably learned all of his stealth skills from watching cartoons. That’s probably something he should bring up with Cas before Jack starts making his own ‘ _I’m sneaking around_ ’ soundtrack to go with the sneaking. 

Most other times Dean probably would have burst out laughing, but his mood has been too foul recently to find it all that funny. It also makes it abundantly obvious that Jack - the one living being in the bunker that Dean doesn’t completely trust yet - is doing something that he doesn’t want to be caught doing. That makes the entire situation decidedly not funny. 

So Dean silently swoops in behind Jack just as Jack peeks around a corner. 

“Who are you hiding from?” Dean says. 

Jack gasps, clearly startled, and he spins around to face Dean. His expression is pure terror, and for a moment Dean almost feels bad. _Almost_. 

“Dean, I was just… uh…”

“Whatcha got there?” Dean nods towards the black rectangular thing that Jack has tucked under his arm. 

“Um -”

Dean doesn’t really feel like witnessing Jack try to lie, because the kid is almost certainly going to do it badly. Lying is probably something that Jack should learn from Dean or Sam rather than Cas, but Dean’s not particularly interested in teaching Jack that skill just yet. 

So Dean reaches out and grabs whatever the thing is and yanks it out of Jack’s arm.

“Wait -” Jack says. 

It’s a boom box. 

It’s a freaking tiny boom box with a radio, a CD player, and a dual tape deck. It looks ancient but only lightly used, and Dean spies a $5 price tag that tells him the thing probably came from that gigantic second-hand store in the next town over. 

“Why -”

“It’s for the training!” Jack says quickly. “I wanted to listen to music while Castiel and I were working.”

Dean frowns as he turns the stereo over in his hands, studying it. It's a brand he doesn't recognize. “And why… why are you sneaking around with it?”

“I… uh…” Jack looks down, and Dean doesn’t know Jack well enough yet to know what that means. “I was afraid you… wouldn’t be nice about it. The lady at the… um… _thrift_ store wasn’t very nice about it. She called me a hippo.”

Dean blinks. “She called you a what?”

“Maybe it wasn’t ‘hippo,’” Jack muses. “But it started with ‘hip.’”

“... a ‘hipster?’”

“That’s it!” Jack exclaims. “She didn’t make it sound very nice. What does it mean?”

Dean stares at Jack in disbelief for a moment. “It means you live off your parents’ trust fund, eat vegan but drink Pabst, and wear ironic trucker hats.” Jack does kind of look the part, Dean realizes, and he’s tempted to actually crack a smile. 

“I don’t know what any of that means,” Jack says. “What’s a ‘trust fund?’ Or ‘vegan?’ Or -”

“You’re not a hipster,” Dean interrupts, rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry about what the rest means.” Dean hopes he didn’t just get himself caught in one of those annoying loops he’s occasionally been finding himself in since Jack came to stay with them; Jack is sometimes like a toddler that constantly asks ‘why’ in response to everything he doesn’t understand. 

“Jack?” Cas comes around the corner, pausing when he sees the two of them. “We… we should be on our way soon.”

Dean resists the urge to sigh and glare and huff. The hilarity of Hipster Jack is instantly gone because they’re leaving _again_. At least he gets to see Cas in person before they take off, even if it’s only for a few seconds. 

“You know… Christmas Eve is in a couple of days,” Dean blurts out, not wanting to miss the chance.

Cas looks at Dean, a sheen of confusion falling over his face. “I'm aware, Dean.”

“Are you…” Dean realizes that he doesn’t actually want to ask the question, especially not with Jack standing right next to him, but something desperate makes him plow on ahead and ask anyway. “You guys gonna be around?”

Cas’s eyes widen and he looks away from Dean and over to Jack, and Dean feels something in his chest clench painfully. 

“I’ve read about Christmas!” Jack bursts out. “I’d... like to experience it!”

“Oh,” Dean says. “We… we don’t really do much. Just a couple of gifts, some nog… we usually don’t even have a tree.” Dean finally looks away from Cas and towards Jack, and Jack looks crestfallen. “But… you guys should come anyway. It’d be nice to be more than just me ‘n Sam again this year.”

“We will be here,” Cas says. 

“Awesome.” Dean smiles, then tries to cover it up by shoving the boom box back into Jack’s arms. “Here. Go do your 80’s training montage in the meantime.”

“What’s a -”

Dean speeds down the hallway before he can hear Jack’s question.

***

When Sam finds out that Cas and Jack will be home for Christmas, Sam - who is usually just a tad grinchy this time of year - turns into Saint Nicholas. 

“Okay,” Sam says, slamming his laptop shut and standing up, his mouth set in a determined line. “We’ve got a day to throw this together. I’ll get presents. You get a tree.”

“I’m…” Dean pauses, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “I’m getting rum and eggnog.”

“I’ll be in the same plaza as the liquor store,” Sam says. “I’ll get them. Can you handle a tree? And decorating?”

Dean can’t help but stare at Sam. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You _hate_ Christmas.”

“I’ve been better the last couple of years,” Sam says in protest. 

“Not by much.”

“It’s… I mean, it’s Jack’s first Christmas,” Sam says. “And it’s not like he’s a baby that won’t remember his first Christmas. We should… make it special.” 

Sam clears his throat as he walks out of the library like he’s on a mission.

“Plus Cas’ll be there, too.”

Dean glares at Sam’s retreating back.

***

Dean hurts himself twice getting a tree into the bunker and nearly throws his back out putting garland around the banisters, but he has to concede that it’s worth it. 

It’s the best damn Christmas Eve he and Sam have ever had. 

Dean’s grinning as he mixes his third glass of nog, but right before he raises the glass to his lips a hand reaches over and covers the top. 

“Stop,” Cas says. “I want you to be able to drive.”

“Huh?” Dean’s too bewildered to be upset at Cas cutting him off in his own home. “Where am I going?”

“I want to show you a house,” Cas says. 

Dean ignores the first four thoughts that run through his mind at that statement. “We can’t take your wheels?”

“I’d rather take the Impala,” Cas says. “It’s got… it’s roomier.”

Dean blinks, then smirks. Cas is right, of course; Baby is pretty roomy, especially that backseat… 

“That she is,” Dean says with a laugh, and then he pauses. “Why do you want to show me a house?”

“They decorated it for Christmas. I think you’ll like it.”

 _Holy_ … Dean suddenly feels quite warm despite the usual bunker’s underground chill. 

Cas wants to take Dean out to look at Christmas lights.

And Dean doesn’t give a crap how incredibly cheesy that is; there’s no way he’s going to turn down that invitation. “Well, let’s go now.” He trades his glass of spiked eggnog for his keys and his jacket. “Sam! Cas ‘n me are going out to look at something.”

Sam waves from the library table where he and Jack are playing Battleship. “See you guys later. D-4.”

“Boom! You sunk my battleship!” Jack cries triumphantly, grinning widely. 

“Uh, Jack…” 

Dean doesn’t stick around to hear Sam telling Jack that he’s actually losing the game.

***

Cas is right - the house is amazing. It’s well over twenty miles away, but it’s absolutely worth the drive. It’s one of those completely over-the-top programmed light displays with a small radio transmitter. Dean tunes his radio to the station displayed on the sign in the house’s yard, and when AC/DC’s ‘Mistress for Christmas’ comes on, he actually reaches out and slaps Cas on the thigh with the back of his hand. 

“Holy _crap_ , Cas,” he says. Dean can’t believe the neighbors haven’t put a stop to this beautiful display, but he supposes you have to actually tune into that specific radio station in order to hear the raunchiness. Kids today all have MP3 players, anyway. 

He and Cas watch as the lights blink and twirl and flash in a perfectly synchronized dance to the music, and then Dean decides they’re going to stay and watch it again, and then one more time. 

Dean can’t justify watching it a fourth time when he’s already got a recording of the beautiful gaudiness on his phone, but he can tell Cas is pleased Dean enjoyed the trip. 

They’re just pulling out of the side street the AC/DC Christmas House is on when Cas clears his throat, which is a little alarming since that’s not a thing Cas usually does. 

“Dean,” Cas says. 

“Yeah?”

Cas reaches into the breast pocket of his coat and pulls out something small, reaching across the seat to pass it to Dean. “Here.”

Dean takes the object, and his heart falls a bit as he realizes it’s that freaking cassette tape, again. He frowns as he holds it back out to Cas. “Cas, I told you, it’s a -”

“A gift,” Cas says. “I know. That’s my gift to you. Merry Christmas.”

“What?” Dean looks down at the tape in his hands, and he nearly has to slam on the brakes of the Impala. 

It’s not the tape he gave Cas. It’s a different tape. 

It really does look almost identical to the one he gave Cas. It’s got the same 90 minute length - 45 a side. Hell, it’s even the same brand.

The difference is that this one reads, ‘Castiel’s Top 12 Led Zeppelin Tracks’ in tiny, perfect handwriting across the white label. 

“I couldn’t fit thirteen songs on the tape,” Cas says. “Some of my favorites are different from yours.”

“Your… you have favorite Zeppelin songs?” Dean asks in a haze.

Dean feels… weird. Like the Impala’s bench turned into a cloud and he’s floating ten feet above the ground. Like everything around them is fading into something less important. 

Like this is the most important Christmas Eve of his entire freaking life.

Cas just gave him a tape of his favorite Led Zeppelin songs. 

“After you gave me that tape, I sought out their albums,” Cas says. “I wanted to hear more.”

And that’s the breaking point; that’s when Dean has to pull over and stop the car. He can’t concentrate on the road right now, because this is just about the most bizarre, most wonderful thing that’s happened in the last… ever.

Dean actually managed to turn Cas on to Zeppelin. It wasn’t a crazy Metatron brain upload. Cas looked for Zeppelin on his own because Dean gave him a tape. 

Dean made that tape on a whim. And it’s really starting to feel like every stupid, wistful hope he had while making it is coming to fruition, on top of filling some wishes he didn’t even know he had. 

“I…” Dean has no idea what to say. Hell, he’s not even sure that he’s actually awake. “When… how did you…” And then it hits him. “Jack. That freaking boom box.”

“I needed Jack’s help,” Cas admits. “I didn’t know how to make the tape, and he’s better at using search engines than I am.” Dean thinks Cas might sound a little bitter about that, but Cas carries on before Dean can tease him about being shown up by a 6-month-old. “Jack showed me how to work the machine. I couldn’t ask Sam for help, because…”

When Dean gave Cas his mixtape, Dean had asked Cas not to mention it to Sam. Dean coughs. “Right.” 

“Right,” Cas says quietly. 

“Cas, uh… do you…” Dean’s not sure he wants to ask this, but plowing right on ahead somehow seems to be working for him lately, so he does. “Do you know why I asked you not to tell Sam?”

Cas meets Dean’s gaze squarely. “I assume it’s because of how mixtapes could be… interpreted?”

“So…” Dean can’t look Cas in the eye right now, so he looks down at the tape as he rubs his thumb over Cas’s pristine handwriting. “So you know…”

“I know they are often given as gifts, like in that space movie with the talking racoon,” Cas says. “It was given from mother to son.” A pit yawns open in Dean’s stomach at that answer because Dean was sure they were so close to - to _something_ , like one of those dream scenarios Dean came up with when making a tape for Cas, and now it’s all getting dashed into the ground. Then Cas continues. “But they’re often a very intimate gift between… people who care for one another.”

Dean risks glancing away from the tape and over at Cas, who is now looking down at his hands. 

“A gift between couples,” Cas says. “I assumed you didn’t want Sam to think we were a couple.”

Dean’s blatantly staring at Cas now. Back when Dean gave Cas that tape, he did it thinking Cas wouldn’t get the nuance of it, or understand what it could mean. 

But on the off-chance that Cas did actually know, Dean was hoping for… well, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was hoping for, because it isn’t exactly something he’s had before.

“Quite a few of the songs on there make me think of you,” Cas says, pointing at the tape.

Dean is incredibly thankful that they’re on an empty road at night, because he’s definitely blushing and he’s gone full-on teenage girl. 

“I thought you put your favorite Zeppelin songs on here,” Dean says quietly. 

“The ones that make me think of you are my favorites.”

Dean thinks, not for the first time this evening, that he’s not awake. But he’s damn well going to make the most of whatever awesome dream this is. He’s going to spend the rest of Christmas Eve driving in circles with Cas, looking at Christmas lights, and listening to Led Zeppelin. “Well,” Dean says. “Let’s find out what your favorites are.”

As Dean pushes the tape into the deck, he realizes that Cas must have wanted them to take Baby because she has a tape deck, and that clinches it. 

He’s not dreaming, but he’s also not avoiding this or denying it. This is what he’s been hoping for.

Dean reaches across the bench with his hand outstretched, offering it to Cas. 

Their hands twine together just as the first chords of Zeppelin fill their ears. 

_end_

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story about a mixtape being given in response to a mixtape that I wrote for the SPN Holiday Mixtape because yes, I really am that extra. 
> 
> Listen to [Out on the Tiles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_3ioOxQ76dA).
> 
> Watch the [Christmas Light Show inspiration](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SJrY3p9nzVY)... except picture it with [this music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e3VenjIIpgY).


End file.
